Stash
by Erinyes
Summary: Helena finds a stash of weapons -enough to destroy half the city- hidden deep in old Gotham. And now she must figure out where it came from and what it was to be used for before it is stolen.
1. Instincts

Late-night city sounds drift up to the rooftops like smoke: People in arguments slamming apartment doors and yelling through windows into the street—totally oblivious to the three women who protect them. Huntress scanned the street below from the flying buttress of the old Episcopal church. She was a mile away from the bay, along the stretch that was once the industry district... twelve years ago and before the earthquake that devastated it. Now, a more appropriate title would have been _drug district_. 

And wherever there were people in a position to be taken advantage of, there was always someone a little stronger and more cunning to take advantage of them. Helena ran into a gang—merely a pain, ordinarily—with switchblades—bordering on _pain in the ass_, during her sweep last night. Huntress was here checking the area again, under the pretense that she had missed some. And the fact that Oracle didn't have the New Gotham PD tapped yet. Apparently, criminals had the entire week off. Funny, how they get the week off. And we don't, Helena thought irritatedly, _I_ get to bar-tend. 

A car horn blew—drowning out the passionate cries of the couple in the nearest motel. Braked squealed as a driver stepped on the pedal, followed closely by the unnerving sound of a two-ton car skidding easily on its tires. Huntress peered into the street. 

Two vehicles, a run-down black Cadillac and a red-rusted-to-brown Chevy were blocking the road. Both had freshly mangled bumpers. 

On the buttress, Huntress watched with mild amusement. If things escalated beyond _cat-fight_, she would have an excuse to intervene, read _something to do_. 

The heavy-set chevy driver got out and slammed his door shut in a rage. In the Cadillac, the driver watched warily—his gleaming, perfectly slicked-back hair a stark contrast with his Cadillac's dark, dirty, and disorganized interior. Slick-Hair cautiously opened his door as the older and more powerful man approached. From her perch, their words were indistinct to Huntress. The glares, however, were understandable even with the distance. Huntress noted, with some disappointment, that the accident had placed the vehicles so they naturally formed a barrier. 

A barrier that wasn't unappreciated by Slick-Hair as he cowered beside his car. 

:Huntress.: 

"Here, Oracle." Huntress absently touched her earring communicator. Watching the accident out of the corner of her eye, she scanned the next block over. "Please tell me through some stroke of luck you found something." She turned back to the street below her. The chevy-driver was gesturing wildly up and down the street. Brief snippets of the discussion drifted up to Huntress. Apparently, he was lecturing Slick-Hair on proper driving. She turned her attention back to her mentor with desperation. "'Cause this is getting ridiculous." 

:Sorry, we're in the dark until Delphi is plugged into the police scanner.: 

"This was a novelty at first. A challenge," Barbara heard rapic footsteps and the rustling of Helena's trench coat. Without warning, the foosteps fell away; static, actually wind disturbance picked up by the microphone, vibrated from the sound system. Bemused, Oracle shook her head, the young vigilante hadn't so much as paused while jumping from building to building. "But now?" Huntress continued. "A frustrating... mess." 

Huntress sauntered to the ledge of the new roof to peer into the local pawnshop. Quiet and empty. i>Damn 

:Yeah, things are gonna be hard for awhile. A lot of priceless stuff was destroyed....: In the Clocktower there was a soft, electronic beep. A message-window blinked incessantly on a small computer screen, demanding attention. It had taken every day of the past week to get things running semi-smoothly again in the control room. Every member of the small team had been involved in the daily process of removing cracked and useless computer monitor, slashed furniture and various scanners with fried electrical systems. 

On the ledge, Helena winced. _Shit_. "Barbara, I-" 

:Huntress, let's not talk about it right now.: Oracle said stiffly. :I have a call reporting a domestic disturbance at Fenders. One of the patrons had a little too much to drink, seems he's reventillating his car.: 

"Could be someone I know." Huntress said jokingly. She was relieved when Oracle snorted, amused. 

:I stand corrected, bartending fits you perfectly.: 

"I'm touched by your sincerity." Huntress tapped her foot impatiently. "So, where's this bar? Don't want it to end before I show up." In the street below, a cop car cruised alongside the accident. 

:It's on the corner of Mangrove.: 

"That's over two miles from where I am." Huntress said, surprisingly calm She looked skyward. "And it's going to pour any minute!" 

:I thought you were desperate. Change your mind?: 

Huntress sighed. "I'm on my way, Huntress out." She stood and casually stepped off her ledge. Helena landed lightly, her knees bent to absorb the shock and coat billowing around her. Her eyes changed briefly—feline and back to human—then she was out off her crouch and racing across the dark rooftop toward Mangrove. 

Five stories below and two blocks ahead a second-story door opened. The two men quickly stepped down the double flight of stairs leading to the street. Their features were hidden, but they both wore the common attire of jeans and a dark jacket. 

Across the street, Huntress paused on a tall apartment complex and briefly glanced at them. They don't say a word to each other and skirted the occasional pothole and trash pile with familiar ease. They walked like they had no where to go. It wasn't unusual, and Huntress was about to jump when she realised her eyes had become completely feline. She stopped, her instincts had saved her countless time and now didn't seem like a good time to ignore them. 

The cop car from earlier approached--Helena couldn't resist a grin when she saw the chevy-driver slouched in the back--she turned back around and found the men too casually concealed in the shadows. They were having a relaxed discussion, but Huntress could see their too tense smiles and the way their eyes nervously followed the flasing lights down the street and around the corner. Huntress smiled encouragingsly, in more earnest than they showed. She turned on her heels and headed trowards them. Within a few minutes, she was crouched above them on a window ledge. 

"Huntress?" Barbara asked through the earpiece, concerned when Helena started in the wrong direction, when she knew the city as well as her own face. "What's going on?" 

Huntress watched them for a couple seconds before answering. They were having a heated converstaion amoung themselves. "I found some possibilities." 

"Possibilities? You sound like you're trying to decide on a pair of boots." Oracle's disbeilieving voice commented. _Great. I love being her sole source of amusement_, Helena thought, her delight at having found a play thing at last hardly dampened. 

"Are they doing anything, Huntress?" Oracle asked, tone only slightly more serious. 

"Implying that I randomly selected men to pummel?" Huntress asked as she dropped onto a ledge a couple of feet lower. Below her the two men continued their argument, oblivious of their eavesdropper. 

"Are they doing anything?" Oracle asked again slowly. 

"They were headed somewhere when a cop drove by, they almost took off into the nearest alley. Not a criminal offense I know, but I just have this feeling." Huntress caught a glimpse of metal under a jacket. "Oh, look! They have a gun. Don't they know those are dangerous?" She said mockingly. 

"What about Fenders?" Oracle asked when she sensed Huntress start to get out of control. She thought about the last time she had almost lost control. 

Huntress quickly dismissed it, unaware of Barbara's introspection. "There's probably a cop they by now. I hate getting to the party late." 

"You can't go around stalking people because you feel they look shifty." Oracle tried to reason with her. 

Helena was getting impatient. "Look Oracle, this is what my instincts are telling me. I don't blame if you don't believe me, but I'm gonna follow them either way." 

"Damn it, Huntress." Oracle muttered, she rested her forehead on her hand, well aware the headstrong young woman was no longer listening. 

"What's Helena doing?" A voice asked behind her. 

Barbara started in surprise then turned around at Dinah's hoarse voice. "Following two unknown mean armed with guns." She held her hand up and vaguely twirled it. The movement, meant to express mild irritation, was rigid with frustration. Barbara quicly lowered her hand and looked at Dinah critically. "You should be resting." 

"I have been! You heard Alfred this morning, it was ridiculous! You wouldn't believe me if I said how much of his chicken soup I'de eaten today." Dinah countered hurriedly. Barbara wheeled over and felt Dinah's forehead with the back of her hand. 

"Fever's down. How do you feel?" 

"Like I was run over by the Hummer." 

Oracle raised her eyebrows at Dinah's exagerration. :Dinah's up finally? You were asleep for hours earlier kid.: Dinah made a face, thankful for the unexpectedally and irritated by _kid_. 

:Hey, O. We might have a problem.: 

Barbara swung away from Dinah, listening to her protege and adjusting the volume. "Huntress? what kind of problem?" Barbara brought up the map displaying Huntress tracking device, she had only traveled a block or so. "There's nothing in that part of town. What are they doing?" 

Huntress shifted her weight on a delapidated diner, watching the two men. After carefully looking around, they disappeared into an inconspicous doorway. Behind them the door lazily swung in the wind. "They went underground, into old Gotham." Huntress said angrily. 


	2. Discovery

There was silence on Huntress' side of the comm. She walked to the edge of the garage and looked down impatiently at the entrance. This was the part of being a vigilante Huntress hated: research, checking, and double-checking locations. Barbara was like the little angel that sat on Helena's shoulder and talked her out of her stupid ideas sometimes. "What's under this area?" 

::It's an old company, Taberson, went out of business about ten years ago. It's storage space; there's nothing left. What are they doing?:: 

"I'm about to find out." Huntress jumped down and approached the heavy, rusted door. She paused slightly, then slipped in. As Helena waited for her eyes to adjust to the near-dark surroundings, she listened intently; distant footsteps, probably her two guys taking off into the intricate mazes of old Gotham. 

Casting about, Huntress found a brown packaging box and wedged it into the door to prevent it from closing and locking her in. Within seconds, Huntress was examining the room. Old papers gave off a musty smell as Huntress rifled through a desk in the corner. A calendar hung on the wall. Helena glanced at it, 1991; twelve years ago. The door leading out of the office leaned hazardly on the doorframe. Huntress cautiously started down the dark musty hallway. "Uh, it smells down here, Oracle." 

::Taberson worked with inks and stains. You're probably smelling the chemicals they used to die fabric.:: 

"Great. Chemical poisoning. Just what I need." Huntress looked around exasperated. Large slabs of sheet-rock and doors hanging off their hinges blocked her vision, making it difficult to travel and impossible to see beyond 15 feet. "I lost them." In frustration Huntress glanced behind her at the caved in hallway. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed something. "This place isn't abandoned." 

::What do you mean? It's been unoccupied for over seven years.:: 

Huntress walked over to the small table and picked up a phone. "Well, it's occupied now." To the left of the phone was a milk carton. Huntress didn't have to read the date to tell it had spoiled. "Housekeeping leaves something to be desired. I'm gonna see if anyone is home." 

::Huntress!:: 

"I'll be fine." Farther into the building a door closed. Helena quickly turned her head to listen. "Let me know if I leave, what is it? Tabersons?" She asked, her bright cat-eye pupils defying the darkness that surrounded them. 

Barbara knew Helena was waiting for a response, she could almost see the younger woman shift irritably. Barbara sighed and surrendered. "Alright." Barbara tapped the keyboard several times and brought up the map of old Gotham with Huntress' steadily moving, red tracking device. Barbara slowly let herself lean against the back of her chair. "I hope you never pick up some of Helena's better traits," she commented wryly to Dinah who had curled up on a nearby chair during the exchange. 

Dinah grimaced. "How long before I can go on sweeps?" 

"Couple days, maybe a week. It all depends on how fast you recover. We'll see if you can go a couple of rounds with Helena. But that doesn't mean you're going back to school in a week." Barbara watched Dinah's expression drop. 

"When do I go back? 

"Probably tomorrow." Barbara glanced at the screen; Huntress was still in Taberson. "Have you found anything, Huntress?" 

::I'm not sure, I'm in some kind of storage room. There are guards posted and I can't get any closer.:: Huntress' voice was low. Barbara inspected the screen closer, pinpointing Huntress' exact location. ::They have crates stacked in the corner.:: 

"Crates of what?" 

Helena leaned farther out of the machinery along the wall to look. The two men she followed were patrolling, every five minutes they came within feet of the machines where Huntress hid. Just as the far side of the room came into view the closest guard sat down in her line of vision. Helena growled and scooted over a foot. No good. "Get out of the way, idiot," she hissed under her breath at the guard. 

::Huntress?:: 

"Relax, I'm talking to the guard. Sat right in the damn way." Helena crouched and walked along the wall. Stooping, she picked up a slim metal rod from the dirty ground. Glancing around, she flicked it quickly along the floor. It crashed into a stack of old mops and brooms some feet away; knocking them down with a satisfying crash. 

They were guards through and through; the instant the first broom hit the floor they were on their way to dutifully look. Using moving equipment as a block, Huntress ran to the first crate and glanced back at the guards. They were kicking the brooms and mops around; satisfied, they finally turned and started back. Huntress dropped to her hands and knees behind the first crate as they came within range. The dark fabric of her jacket pooled on the stone at her feet and blended perfectly. 

Moments later they were at their sanctioned posts, backs to the vigilante. Huntress slowly backed behind another tower of crates, now well out of sight. To her right a crate was slightly open. Gently, she removed the lid and set it on its side. 

"Oracle, the crates are full of weapons and syringes. Automatics, hand-guns, and small..." Huntress picked up an object curiously and turned it over in her hands, inspecting it, "Bombs." Huntress held the bomb closer, searching for a timing device. "Ugh, the bombs reek." 

::Probably a chemical bomb. That would explain why they could be kept in such a high humidity environment. Huntress, can you bring back a syringe for analysis?:: 

"Yeah," Huntress crept behind several more towers and glanced around, her eyes widened in alarm. "Oracle, there are hundreds of crates full of this stuff."


End file.
